Gallery
by Justanotherfiveminutes
Summary: Caroline has been wanting to see this exhibition for weeks, and it turns out to be well worth the wait AU/AH
1. Chapter 1

She had the feeling that someone was watching her but shook it off, she must have been imagining things. The gallery was busy, crowded even, with people absorbed in the exhibition. The murmur of voices preventing absolute silence but allowing her to still feel separated from it all, isolated in her solitary visit. The pictures were beautiful; she had been waiting months for the opening of this temporary exhibition of abstract expressionists. Caroline found herself absorbed in the image in front of her – a Rothko - fascinated by the contrasts, only to notice it again: just a sensation, not quite a prickle on the back of her neck.

She turned to look around her unable to find anything immediately amiss. Scanning the crowd in the ornate high ceilinged room of the National Gallery she saw a wide range of people, some old, some young, some standing still taking it in, others moving between paintings. No, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Mentally shrugging she moved on to the next room. As she glanced up from the catalogue to see what awaited her she caught a glimpse of a man standing stock still who seemed to be looking at her. She looked away, embarrassed at having caught this stranger's eye end when she glanced back he was looking at the picture beside him, she must have imagined it.

It was warm in the gallery, she had left her coat and umbrella in the cloakroom by the entrance, but she was dressed in formal work clothes having come from the office. The heavy rain outside had left her, and most of the other visitors, slightly damp and now they were steaming in the warmth causing the atmosphere to feel close and humid.

Somehow Caroline couldn't stop herself keeping track of the stranger's progress around the room. He was worth a second look: tall, dark blonde hair curling messily and a couple of days' worth of stubble over his face. And what a face, she thought as she glanced away quickly anxious incase he caught her looking. Beautifully cut with sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw but softened with full, sensuous lips.

His beautiful, slightly tousled face seemed at odds with his navy blue suit, which was perfectly tailored to his lean frame. City boy, she mentally categorized him, successful one if the Tom Ford was anything to go by. Bit unusual for one to be out at an exhibition over lunchtime on a weekday, but who was she to judge? She had taken a break from her job as a commodities trader to visit this show herself, tickets were hard to come by and this had been the only time available. She loved this movement and had been completely absorbed until she'd noticed him.

This was getting out of hand, seriously, how long had it been since she'd had sex? Her relationship with Tyler was far behind her. There had been others since then, but somehow it had never quite been enough, they hadn't quite been enough to make her throw herself into a relationship and she was feeling a little like she should have tried harder. Now here she was thinking about the sensuous lips of a stranger she had glimpsed across the room.

Laughing quietly at herself she moved on to the next picture, checking the catalogue to see what she could learn about it Looking up she found his eyes again, and this time he was definitely looking at her. No mistake. His eyes were blue, probably, it was difficult to tell from this distance, but more importantly than their colour was that they were fixed on her and the look he was giving her was impossible to misinterpret. He wanted her. Her cheeks started to heat up, in fact her whole body was warming up. She tugged slightly at the light silk scarf around her neck, feeling as if it were constricting her.

Suddenly jostled from behind by an older woman with a phone on a selfie stick (didn't she know they had banned those here?) she broke their short, intense eye contact. She felt the loss acutely but still couldn't completely bring herself to believe the situation was quite what she was making of it in her head.

As she moved on around the room she mulled it over, wasn't this just what she needed? A distraction? Something to get her over the dry spell she'd been stuck in recently? And when had she felt this sort of instant, burning attraction to a man before? Honestly she couldn't remember _ever_ feeling like this. But what to do about it? Out of the corner of her eye she saw him move on to the next room.

She unwound her scarf and tucked it into her bag, making a deal with herself. If she saw him again, she'd hold his gaze longer and see whether he approached her. If not, well maybe she'd try to encourage him.

Feeling somewhat excited by her plan she straightened up and approached the next picture. There he was again, standing in the far corner, but hadn't he left room already?

He was still keeping his distance but he did seem to have returned to the room, perhaps to see the Pollock again? Or perhaps to see her. She waited until he turned round and met his eyes boldly, he licked his lower lip slowly and she could think of little else but how that mouth might feel on hers, on her skin.

She slipped the top few buttons of her blouse open, his gaze following her hand. It was still perfectly respectable, unless she turned her upper body just so, which would reveal the creamy skin of her breasts and the sheer lace of the bra cupping them. When she was sure she had his attention where she wanted it she moved casually, revealing herself to him, definitely more than could be called decent. Challenging him to respond to, or withstand her silent seduction. Frankly it didn't matter too much how he chose to react, the mere act of engaging in this semi striptease was turning her on. It was one of the most erotic experiences of her life, here in this crowded room with a complete stranger over 20 feet away.

Her breasts felt heavy and tender, nipples chaffing slightly against the roughness of the lace. His hot eyes were making her shameless, it was as if the rest of the visitors in the gallery didn't exist. She wanted to stretch languidly like a cat and rub up against him. Glancing at his crotch she could see that they'd both enjoy that, and the realization that he was as clearly affected as she was had her wet and aching. Her clothes felt too hot, too tight, she wanted to shed them all and bask in the heat she could feel in his gaze. She clenched her pelvic muscles, and squirmed a little bit. Almost without thinking her hand moved back to the buttons on her blouse again, stopping before she could actually flick any more open. That really would be indecent.

Startled by the close call Caroline broke eye contact again, losing her nerve, surely they were attracting attention? She forced herself to look at the final painting in this room. She stared blankly at it, unseeing, trying to gather her thoughts.

Looking up as she exited the room she realized with a stab of disappointment that this was the end of the exhibition and he was nowhere to be seen. She hovered, unwilling to leave the gallery, and with it the possibilities that had arisen from her encounter with the stranger.

The queue at the cloakroom was long. Caroline found the British love of queuing frustrating but she'd been living in London for nearly a year now and knew it was close to a national obsession. So she waited, thinking over the mountain of paperwork she had waiting for her back at the office.

As she stood waiting she felt someone a little too close behind her in the line. A hard body brushed up behind her, invading her personal space, causing her to stiffen momentarily. Then a palm cupped her ass over her skirt. It paused, resting hotly on her for a long moment then squeezed firmly before being removed. She knew who it was. The hand returned, this time rubbing all over her, tracing the cleft covered by her perfectly respectable knee length pencil skirt. Still she didn't turn around. He was standing directly behind her shielding her from prying eyes as his hand continued to rub over her, squeezing and touching her. No one had ever paid so much attention to her ass before and she loved it.

She fought to stop herself pushing back into his palm, to not moan despite the shortening of her breath. They were both almost perfectly still, not talking, seemingly like any other couple in the queue if you didn't look too closely. Caroline prayed no one was as she weighed up the options:she wanted to turn around to look at him but couldn't quite bring herself to shatter this illicit moment.

She was starting to pant under his continued ministrations. Her skin was super sensitive, and she was so thoroughly lost in the moment that she let out a long sigh, careless of the surrounding people.

The hand suddenly left her but the warmth of his body remained, his hot breath brushing her neck as he bent his head..

"Follow me," he whispered roughly in her ear.

Feeling him step back she turned blindly and he grabbed her hand pulling her down one corridor after another. In a daze she passed door after door in what she vaguely assumed was the administration wing of the gallery. All the time his thumb was rubbing against her sensitive palm and brushing her wrist keeping her focused on the point they were touching and the sensations he was creating. His fingers felt slightly rough against her skin, not your typical banker or hedge fund manager, she briefly noted before he pulled her into an office and shut the door behind them. She stumbled slightly in her high heels as she crossed the threshold into the office, not having anticipated the change of direction. He steadied her by pushing her up against the now closed door with the full length of his body, hands resting either side of her head, as he leaned in and kissed her. Caroline was glad of the support of the door and his body as their lips finally met. It was a kiss that was impossible to escape, capturing her attention and preventing coherent thought from forming. She had almost instantly opened her lips for him and his tongue pushed its way into her mouth, caressing hers and causing her arms to hook around his neck to pull him closer.

Finally, finally the kiss ended and she was staring into his eyes, they were indeed blue, and they were burning for her. She took a deep breath reveling in the feeling of his body against hers. His scent was warm, earthy and very male. The pressure of his chest against her breasts was very welcome, but it wasn't enough she thought as she arched her back, searching for some friction as a wide, seductive smile spread across her face. He may have made the first move but that didn't mean she was going to lie back and think of England. She knew she wanted him and it was time to go after that.

She remembered how much she'd enjoyed teasing him with a glimpse of flesh earlier. Pushing him back a little she worked her hands between them and started to undo the rest of the buttons on her blouse, letting it hang open revealing the beautiful French underwear that was her one big extravagance. She knew the bra made her look fantastic pushing her breasts up and showing her dark nipples through the sheer fabric. His eyes dropped and she saw his pupils dilate.

"Like what you see?" she practically purred, slipping the blouse off her shoulders and pushing him backwards until his legs hit the chair positioned next to the solid wooden desk. He sat abruptly and she bent forward at the waist giving him a closer view of her cleavage. He smiled confidently at her, relaxed and enjoying himself.

"Yeah, I think you do," she murmured as she leant in closer to him, one hand on his shoulder, one finding his hard cock through his trousers. She left her hand resting over him as she gave a long slow lick up the column of his throat, the sensation of his stubble against her tongue turning her on even more. She'd like to feel that against her nipples she thought. All in good time. She ended the thought with a hard kiss to his lips.

Standing up she turned round, and looking at him over her shoulder said, "Help me with my skirt?" He obliged, sliding the zip down slowly and smoothing the skirt down over her hips and thighs, until it pooled on the floor at her feet. She stepped out of it giving him a view of her ass, highlighted by the tiny sheer thong she wore. She knew he liked it so she bent forward again, with her legs slightly parted, ostensibly to pick her skirt up but allowing him to see how soaked the thin strip of fabric between her legs was.

Running his hands along it he hummed in appreciation.

"Nice," he commented, "but I really don't know why you bother with them."

She straightened, throwing her skirt onto the desk beside them and letting out a low sultry laugh.

He reached up placing both hands on her waist and with one quick tug pulled her backwards onto his lap His hands slid down her thighs and travelled to rest on their inner surface, encouraging her to spread them widely either side of his. She could feel his erection pushing against her ass through the fabric of his clothes, and ground against him a little, leaning forward to get better leverage by resting her hand on his knees. She knew she was soaking him through his clothes with her arousal.

Her legs were splayed wide apart and although she was still in her underwear it wasn't really concealing anything. They were facing the door, she couldn't remember if he had locked it, but instead of making her anxious, it just turned her on more. His hands were moving up her legs, over her stomach and higher, to cup her breasts, they barely fit into his palms and the feeling of his warm hands cupping her was amazing, he squeezed lightly and she moaned, he slipped his fingers under the fabric to tease her nipples and she writhed, falling back against his chest. She lifted her arms and slid her fingers into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and neck as one of his hands moved down to slide under the band of her thong. He ran his fingers over her soaking sex, finding her clit and applying some pressure. She was breathing hard now, legs spread wide open on his lap and breasts thrust forward, grinding against the heel of his hand as he inserted two fingers into her tight pussy, fingerfucking her hard. It only took another minute or so before she was convulsing, riding out her orgasm as she drenched his fingers.

Caroline came down from her high, still lying back on his chest, limbs splayed, one of his arms wrapped around her waist while the hand rested over her sex under her underwear. It was the hottest thing she's ever done, but she wasn't finished yet. Turning her head to the side she kissed hum languidly, a contented sigh leaving her lips as they pulled back. She felt the evidence of his arousal firmly behind her, even clothed he felt huge, and she was ready to go again.

Pushing up off his lap she walked over to look at the bookshelves lining the opposite wall. She turned back to him from where she had been examining the books on the shelves, all weighty tomes on art history and conservation.

"So, it hardly seems fair. Here I am," she said gesturing to her barely clad self, "and there you are, a bit overdressed for the occasion."

With a smirk he started to strip loosening the knot in his tie and discarding it and starting on the buttons of his shirt. He really was something, Caroline thought, he'd looked good with his suit on, but then again, most men did. The body that was being revealed now was toned and athletic and she couldn't tear her eyes away, feeling herself getting wetter again under his heated gaze. He stood to shrug out of his jacket and went to open the buckle of his belt but paused.

"Care to return the favour, love?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Picking her way through the piles of papers on the floor in her spindly heels until she stood in front of him. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and dragged her nails deliberately down his well defined chest, stopping to flick both nipples briefly.

"And the rest," he demanded softly.

Biting her lip Caroline dropped to her knees looking up at him, meeting his gaze squarely as she undid his belt buckle and opened the fly of his trousers. She wasn't a naïve young girl to be ordered around and nor was she in the mood to pretend today. She let his trousers drop to the floor and he stepped out of them, toeing off his shoes. In other circumstances she might have laughed at the awkwardness of him removing his socks, like seriously, are any items of clothing _less_ sexy? But the crazy impulse that had driven her to get to this point was still at the forefront of her mind and she was so completely enveloped in the sultry atmosphere of the office that no such thoughts intruded. He was left standing before her in his tight boxer briefs, while she knelt in front of him still in her bra and thong.

She slid his underwear down, freeing his cock, it was huge and thick and she felt the familiar ache intensify in her pussy. She longed to have it inside her, just knowing it would feel amazing, filling her the way she liked.

He sat back down spreading his legs and gesturing for her to kneel between them. She obliged gaze darting between his eyes and his cock. Leaning forward she encircled the base of his cock with her hand and brought it to rest between her breasts, rubbing herself up and down him. His shaft was practically enclosed by the firm mounds, the sensitive head moving tantalizingly close to her slightly parted lips with each upward thrust. He reached behind her and undid the clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts, and she leant back releasing him to let the virtually transparent garment slide forward off her arms. He was breathing hard but seemed content to watch as she lifted her hands and rolled her tight nipples between her fingers and thumbs, softly moaning, giving him time to come back from the edge of orgasm. Then she bent her head, took hold of him again and licked up the shaft and around the head, teasing him before taking him as far into her mouth as she could, sucking him hard. She moved her lips up and down on him using her tongue to add pressure and he wound his hand into her hair tightening his grip as she felt him start to lift his hips. The chair, having no arms for leverage, was limiting his ability to move so she placed her hands over his own, tangled in her hair, and encouraged him to move her head as he wished. He began, slowly at first then more firmly and quickly, using her mouth to get himself off. She reached down between her legs to finger her wet pussy and play with her clit, moaning in pleasure around him as she came again, this time from the sensation of her fingers on herself and her mouth full of his cock. With a shout of, "Fuck, yes!" he came in hot spurts in her mouth and over her lips and it was Caroline's turn to smirk as she swallowed and licked her lips.

"Was that OK for you? I do hope you've got a bit more to give me," she said, "I still need you to fuck my pussy. I really don't want to miss out on that."

He tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling, laughing softly in disbelief, as if asking "is this woman for real?"

"You're the overdressed one now, sweetheart."

Caroline rolled her eyes, really the nude lace thong hardly qualified as clothing, never mind fitted the definition of "overdressed" but she obediently stripped it off standing up as naked as he was.

Turning to the desk, he swept an arm across the surface, sweeping all the files, books and loose papers onto the floor. If the office had been messy before it looked like a bomb had hit it now. Ordinarily, Caroline would have been itching to start tidying it up. Colour coding the filing cabinets and arranging everything just so. But now she just laughed as he hoisted her by her waist to perch on the edge, spreading her legs as he came to stand between them and pushed her flat with the palm of one hand between her breasts. With his hands braced either side of her head he leaned over her, kissing her then proceeding to nuzzle her neck and suck the tender skin where it joined her shoulder. He moved lower, cupping her breasts and squeezing her nipples until she finally felt his stubble graze them lightly, his hot breath sending shivers through her. Then his mouth was on her breasts, sucking and biting the sensitive peaks. She shifted under his ministrations and as she did became aware that he was hard again. Caroline rolled her hips trying to feel his thick cock against her where she needed it, squirming and writhing against him until he straightened up, pulling her closer to the edge of the desk. He rubbed the head of his cock over her tight entrance and teased her, just barely penetrating her. She shifted restlessly, wrapping her legs round his hips, trying to get what she needed. At last he took pity on her and steadied himself and gripping her ass with both of his hands thrust hard into her tight, wet pussy. Caroline had never felt so stretched and full, and following on from the preceding events she was close to coming again. He was staring down at where they were joined with an intense look of concentration on his face, watching his cock piston in and out of her as she let out soft grunts and "oh"s with each thrust. Reaching down to touch her clit between her widely spread legs was almost overkill but she just needed that little extra push over the edge after her previous orgasms. A couple of seconds was all it took to have her coming hard, shoulders lifting off the desk as her abdominal muscles tightened and she clenched tightly around his cock. He came almost immediately after, pumping his come into her before dropping forward to rest against her, shuddering, supporting some of his weight on his forearms. She wrapped her arms tightly round him to pull him close in silent thanks for the most amazing lost afternoon of her life.

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That night she relaxed back on the sofa in her flat thinking back to her trip to the gallery, and the name she had read on the office door as she left. Niklaus Mikaelson, Curator, 20th Century Art.


	2. Chapter 2

Klaus Mikaelson was a mess, not that you'd know it to look at him. No, on the outside it was business as usual for the National Gallery's senior specialist in 20th century art. But underneath, oh underneath he was in turmoil. He couldn't get one particular afternoon and one particular woman out of his mind.

Klaus had sat at his desk after she had left, stunned and satisfied, mind blown by the gorgeous stranger who had done all those hot things with him. He could not remember ever feeling so thoroughly sated. He wasn't a man who had relationships, he knew women, he liked women and they liked him, but he rarely saw any particular one more than a couple of times. He loved the pursuit, the seduction, and the sex of course. But this one, yes, he wouldn't mind seeing her again. Hot on the heels of that thought came the realization that he had no idea who she was, still less how to contact her. He had hurried into his clothes and rushed out into the gallery to try to catch her but she had vanished.

Furious with himself, he walked back to his office. So he'd let her get away, he thought, it was unfortunate but not a disaster. London was teeming with beautiful women; he'd never had any trouble finding willing partners before. It was just the unexpected nature of their encounter that had made it so memorable he rationalized. Really, he supposed, what had happened must be pretty much every man's fantasy. He found that the thought of her as anyone's fantasy other than his own was an uncomfortable one, but he knew that was irrational and unfair. She was an adult, free to behave however she wanted with whomever she wanted, the same as him.

Sadly for Klaus he found he couldn't keep his mind off her in the days that followed. He had to see her again, he had to have her again, he had never been so excited by a woman and he could kick himself for having let her leave without any way of getting in touch with her. As the days had turned into weeks it was becoming imperative to track her down.

He went to the Gallery's security offices to review the CCTV footage from that day, uncaring of the curious looks he received from the security guards. There she was, entering the building, then a few shots of her around the exhibition- happily none of them together in the queue- and then she appeared again, strolling casually back through the main doors just after 4pm. It seemed clear to Klaus that in those final scenes she looked…satisfied: she was glowing and relaxed in a way she hadn't been in previous shots. He demanded a copy of the footage, knowing his request was raising eyebrows but just being able to look at her again, to reassure himself it had been real was a balm to his frayed nerves.

Each night, after work, he watched the images of her in the gallery in what had become a sort of ritual. Knowing he had put the "just fucked" look on her face was a source of pride as well as comfort.

Klaus began to haunt the exhibition on the pretext of checking everything was just so. It was a long shot but she had seemed genuinely interested in the art, he thought, perhaps she'd return. The museum world had been on high alert ever since the Rothko was defaced at Tate Modern. They had plenty of security staff but you couldn't be too careful. Or at least that's how he justified it to himself. He never caught a glimpse of her though.

Sitting at his desk, he reexamined the encounter with the kind of meticulous attention to detail he demanded of the gallery's excellent conservation department. He ran through what little he knew of her: She was beautiful and American, perhaps a model, he wondered, or an actress? Perhaps she worked in the city? Her clothes had been office attire. Although, under that she had been wearing the most provocative lingerie he'd ever seen… He halted his train of thought right there before he headed off down a route that only ended with one conclusion: a locked office door and five minutes of quality alone time. He appeared to be at an impasse. The Mikaelson family was old and well connected but it wasn't the mafia, he simply had no way of tracking her down through official (or for that matter unofficial) channels.

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Caroline woke in a sweaty, panting mess, tangled in her bedclothes and with a deep feeling of dissatisfaction. She had been so close to reaching something, so close to…coming, she realized. The wetness between her legs was a testament to that. As she began to re-orientate herself to the waking world she smiled, OK, well there were worse ways to wake up. And better of course, but since she didn't actually have another body to hand she would have to take care of this herself. Lying on her back she spread her legs and started to play with herself, the fingers of her right had rolling over her clit, slipping into her pussy in the wet evidence of her arousal. Her left hand tugged on her nipples, adding stimulation to push her towards climax. In the deep quiet of the early hours of the morning she sighed and moaned and panted as she closed her eyes despite the dark and imagined herself back in that office. So immersed in the fantasy that she began to mutter and swear and urge him on, picking up the pace with her fingers as she remembered sitting on his lap, exposed and open as he fingered her. She had never felt more powerful, and on that thought, she clenched hard, shuddering as she came.

Glancing over at her clock she could see that it was still only 2am, she'd barely been asleep 2 hours. Usually after an orgasm she was relaxed and could drop off to sleep but she was still keyed up; this was becoming a problem. Every night (and sometimes during the day) for the last month she would be overtaken by memories of that encounter. She really couldn't believe how far she had gone, virtually stripping for a stranger in public, and then the wild, crazy fucking they had engaged in in his office. It was the best sex of her life and they'd barely exchanged a word.

Mind racing, deciding that she wouldn't be getting any sleep in the immediate future, Caroline got up, pulled on her wrap and walked to the kitchen. Settling herself on a stool at the breakfast bar while she waited for the kettle to boil she began to organize her thoughts. This couldn't go on, she was finding it difficult to concentrate and now sleep was evading her. Her work would suffer and she was nothing if not highly professional. Besides, her visa depended on her having current employment and despite the frequently grey weather, queuing issues and difficulty finding a decent coffee, she loved London. She wasn't ready to leave. This issue, therefore, had to be faced head on: examined, planned for and dealt with.

She had tried simple distraction but it had not been a success. Drinks with friends had been of limited value, punctuated by joking comments from them about her wandering attention. If only they knew. Her apartment was spotless, having been the subject of some fairly aggressive stress cleaning over recent days. She had even tried picking up another man, thinking that maybe this was her new kink: slightly shady, illicit encounters with strangers. Perched on a bar stool in one of The City's many champagne and cigar bars, she'd waited to feel that spark again. It had been a mistake; the place was full of young men with more money than they knew what to do with and even less idea about how to handle a woman like her. Caroline worked in commodities trading, she was familiar with testosterone fuelled, posturing men, but he had been a true alpha male. Fending off another young hopeful, she had left the bar and flagged a cab.

Caroline poured the boiling water onto the tea and waited for it to settle before pouring herself a cup. She was rapidly coming to the conclusion that she needed to see him again. That amazing afternoon was turning out to be more of a curse than a gift, stealing her calm self-possession and poisoning her chances of meeting anyone else. It was meant to have been a lost afternoon to get back in the game after her last relationship. Now it was at risk of getting blown out of all proportion. Seeing him again would reveal him to be an ordinary, albeit very hot, man who could not possibly live up to the fantasy she had created.

If this were a romance novel then a client would be having an event at the gallery or they would meet again through a previously unknown mutual friend. She supposed that sort of thing was still a vague possibility, the laws of chance being what they were, but Caroline was all about getting what she wanted these days and right now waiting for him to _maybe_ reappear at _some unknown point_ was unacceptable.

Taking a sip of tea, she developed her plan. She knew who he was, or at least a good place to start. Opening her laptop she typed in the name she recalled from the office door. And seconds later she was looking him in the eyes again, courtesy of the National Gallery's website: Niklaus Mikaelson, curator of 20th Century Art. Being Caroline Forbes she proceeded to research him thoroughly.

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Unfortunately for Klaus, it had got to the point where merely being in his office had him on edge. What had once been his oasis of calm was now completely overrun by X-rated memories. He pushed aside the proposal he was working on and stood, adjusting his clothing a little, trying to get comfortable and take his mind off his seemingly permanent state of semi arousal. Taking a deep breath he decided he'd be better off getting out of this room altogether if he really expected to be able to calm down. He would go down and start his daily prowl around the exhibition.

Pocketing his phone and wallet, he was almost at the door when the phone on his desk began to ring. Answering it with a degree of impatience and a curt, "Klaus Mikaelson," he heard the voice of one of the administrative assistants.

"Good afternoon Mr. Mikaelson, I have a Miss Caroline Forbes here asking to see you. Is it convenient?"

Frowning a little, he opened the calendar. As he thought, there were no meetings entered for the rest of the day.

"I'm not expecting anyone this afternoon, Jean. What's it in regard to? Is it urgent or could you ask her to make an appointment for later in the week?"

He heard Jean on the other end explaining and it was then that he caught the American accent drifting distantly down the line. His heart began to race from the sudden rush of adrenaline.

"Hang on, Jean!" He said hastily to catch her attention, "actually I could probably squeeze an appointment in this afternoon. If we can make it right now?"

"Yes, that's fine," she informed him after a brief pause to confirm the details with the woman in front of her. "Shall I send her up?"

"No," he assured her. "I'll meet her in the main entrance hall, I was just leaving anyway."

The last place he wanted to see her, if it really was her, was this office, at least until they had a few things clear. Things like her phone number, when he could see her again and whether she was single. Not that that last one mattered, she was going to be his, whatever her current position.

Telling himself to get a grip- it might not even be her for heaven's sake- he strode towards the entrance hall. Ordinarily the red marble columns and huge glazed cupola never failed to impress him but today, as he turned to head down the broad steps to the entrance, he was focused on just one thing: the bright golden head he could see standing apart from the other visitors to the gallery. Caroline Forbes, he told himself, finally having a name to attach to the gorgeous creature he recalled.

He slowed his steps as he approached her.

"Miss Forbes?" Holding out his hand he offered her a politely enquiring smile and a raised eyebrow. Seeing her again was reigniting the instant attraction he had felt the first time Here was the woman who had seduced him and told him so clearly what she wanted. All those nights he had spent wondering how he could see her again and now here she was, she had come to him. The thought sent a thrill through him. Klaus was usually the one in pursuit, although it had to be said he didn't often have to try _too_ hard. But with this woman, well, he was more than happy to let her lead the way, for now.

"Caroline, please, Mr. Mikaelson," she replied, briefly clasping his hand.

"Very well, Caroline, then I'm Klaus." Introductions officially over, there was a small pause. The events of that afternoon stood, a barrier between them and he wasn't sure quite how to overcome that. She seemed as aware as he of the awkwardness, yet her eyes still met his with the frankness that had captivated him at their first encounter. He was unsure of her precise intentions in coming here, but his feelings were crystal clear. He wanted her with the same ferocity that he had that first day. And one thing was for sure, if they continued to just stand here he was not going to be able to stop himself from kissing her. They needed to get moving.

"I believe you've seen the abstract impressionists exhibition?" He asked. "It's a favorite of mine, but the gallery also has a number of other remarkable works. Did you get a chance to view them at your last visit?" It was a teasing question, after all he was well aware of how she had spent her time after leaving the exhibition.

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow, laughing slightly as she looked away, then clearly deciding to play along she shook her head, "No, I missed a lot of stuff out that day."

"Well then, perhaps you'll allow me to be your guide while we talk? There are some that you should really experience." He gestured back towards the steps and she turned in acquiescence.

They started back towards the permanent collection of the gallery, walking close together but not touching. He was trying to plan a tour of the gallery but her proximity was making it hard for him to focus on anything other than her scent, one that he remembered so well and was so exquisitely her own. He was glad that he was wearing a suit, the jacket offering him some degree of coverage.

Klaus stopped in front of a beautiful still life. "This one is one of my favourites," he told her. "I love the light in it. Chardin was particularly famous for this type of composition although this is now believed to be the work of a 19th century imitator."

"You don't mind that it's not real?" She looked up at him, quickly catching his eye.

"It was misattributed rather than forged," he replied. "It's a beautiful picture painted by a talented artist. That much is real and true." Klaus paused, considering his words carefully. "I don't think it's wrong to enjoy things for what they are. Genuine beauty, in any form, should be appreciated."

She was standing next to him, studying the picture. He meanwhile was using the time to study her from the corner of his eye. She was dressed more casually today, in a closely fitted black dress with buttons all the way down the front. He was disappointed to note that she was demurely buttoned up today. The shadow of her cleavage was visible, nothing more, but his memories were quickly filling in the blanks for him and that was dangerous territory. She was playing with the top most button, as they talked, slipping it in and out of the buttonhole. Klaus was beginning to become fixated on it, hoping desperately for a repeat of her previous striptease. He couldn't stop thinking about her breasts, what they had looked like, how perfectly they had fit into his hands. Realizing she had asked him something, and was waiting for a reply he looked up to meet her laughing eyes and knew he had been caught. She knew what she was doing to him, and she was enjoying it.

Deciding they needed to move on, and maybe allow him to regain a little control, he showed her another painting, this time a rococo masterpiece. It depicted a girl in 18th century dress on a garden swing, kicking off her shoe. A boy was hiding in the bushes watching her.

"It's pretty," Caroline offered, but he could tell she wasn't impressed. "I guess showing your ankles was quite risqué at the time the picture was painted?"

Klaus smirked, leant closer and breathed low into her ear, "I think that young man is getting a much better view than that, love. Ladies did not wear underwear in those days."

"Something we have in common," she murmured, eyes never leaving the painting.

The idea of viewing any further artworks was forgotten as Klaus stood rooted to the spot breath shortening. The thought that she had been naked under that dress the whole time was melting his brain and he was becoming painfully turned on.

There was no doubt about her intentions now, but he would be damned if he would take her to his office again. This time he wanted space, a bed and enough time to enjoy her properly. She looked up and their eyes locked.

"I know a place," she told him, seeming to read his mind.

"Lead on, then."

Klaus thought about reaching out to take her hand, but settled for watching her walk a pace ahead of him as they exited the gallery and turned up Pall Mall. He loved the sway of her hips in her close fitting dress, her curvy arse drawing his eyes as she walked purposefully up the street. He couldn't stay behind her the whole time, it was just rude, he should be talking to her, getting to know her, but the temptation was too great to withstand. He wanted to touch her again, remembering how firm and hot she had felt under his hand standing in the queue that day. Never mind how smooth and soft her skin was without the barrier of her clothes. Christ, he thought, mind jumping ahead again, what on earth had she said to him about not wearing underwear?

After a short walk they reached her intended destination.

"They do a good coffee here," she said as she climbed the red-carpeted steps to the entrance of a quiet, luxurious hotel in St James's. "On the room service menu."

He realized she was heading for the lift as the concierge nodded a greeting to her, while he followed, trying to relax while his pulse raced, this was really happening again. But this time, he was going to stay alert. There was no way she was slipping away like last time.

The lift was mercifully empty and as the doors shut behind them he leaned against the wall, facing her across the small space. "I've been thinking of you. I was thinking about how you flashed me in the gallery, and how you felt under my hands in that queue. In fact, thinking about your arse has been pretty much a full time job for me over the last few weeks. How it felt under my hand, how it felt rubbing against my cock as you came on my lap. What it looked like with that pretty little thong tucked up between the cheeks."

Caroline shifted against the wall, restlessly. Clearly as affected as him despite the fact he wasn't touching her. Good, he thought with satisfaction.

"I couldn't take my eyes off it on the walk up here, love. But I think you know that don't you? You seemed perfectly happy to walk ahead of me, teasing me."

All previous constraint had lifted and they were once again caught in the thick atmosphere of sexual tension.

"I hadn't quite finished looking though. So turn around, love."

Caroline obliged, facing the wall, hands holding the rail, and arching her back to give him a better view. Klaus studied her, loving her in this position, displayed for him. He'd like to fuck her like this, against the wall in this lift, but really there wasn't time, the journey seemed to have taken far too long already. Caroline was standing in front of the panel that indicated the floor numbers, and he brushed up behind her to see where they were. She whimpered a little at the minimal contact and pushed back into his body rubbing herself against his crotch.

He sucked in a deep breath, finally getting to feel her pressed against him and noticed that the lift had stopped at the 5th floor: Caroline's finger was holding the door closed button. Laughing softly she removed her finger and straightened up as the doors opened. Clever, naughty girl he thought, she had clearly put some forethought into this. Part of him wanted to see what else she had planned, but he wasn't going to let her have it all her own way. The dominating, alpha male in him wanted to take charge and claim her and make sure she would never walk off without a word again.

As they left the lift he positioned himself behind her, one hand finally resting on the arse he'd been thinking about so much. He kept it there as they walked up the corridor then waited, tracing the cleft with the pads of his fingers while Caroline swiped a key card. He followed her into a large, elegant room.

"I like the room, lots of possibilities." Klaus told her, taking in the huge bed and a full length mirror on the wall between two windows. His voice lowered to a gravelly pitch. "I want you to stand and face the mirror."

Caroline simply quirked an eyebrow at him as their gazes met in the refection, this probably wasn't what she'd planned but she was taking it in her stride. She came to stand where he indicated, facing the mirror and just out of his reach. Still holding his gaze with more than a slight air of challenge, she waited to see what he would say next.

"I want you to strip for me like you did that afternoon. Open the top few buttons, like you did then. That's right. Now, look at yourself, can you see what you've done?"

"Looks perfectly respectable to me," she said slowly, with a teasing look, before she twisted slightly and the edges of her dress started to part.

"Then I think you need to look a bit closer, sweetheart. This is what I was seeing that afternoon. When I looked at you, across the room, surrounded by all those other people, this is what you showed me." Caroline moved her gaze down to where her dress was gaping open, her breasts almost entirely revealed, nipples only just hidden behind the fabric. She knew it was an exaggeration of what had happened that afternoon but the idea of being so exposed turned her on.

"I liked stripping for you, I liked you watching me. I wanted to show you more."

"Show me now then, love. Imagine we're back in that room, all those visitors looking at those pictures, but I'm staring at you. What are you going to do?"

Taking a shaky breath, picking up his scent Caroline began to undo the remaining buttons on the bodice, continuing down to the hem of the dress, until it hung open like a coat, a thin strip of her skin visible, but shadowed.

He bent his head running his lips from her shoulder to the sensitive skin behind her ear, making her shudder lightly. Still he didn't touch her anywhere else.

She shrugged the dress off her shoulders stepping forward slightly to allow it to fall unimpeded to the floor. As she had promised there was no underwear this time, she was completely naked. Klaus sucked in a deep, steadying breath. She was going to be the death of him.

"Now that is almost worth waiting all these weeks for."

Unable to restrain himself any longer he kicked her now discarded dress out of the way and pressed himself against her back, arms snaking around her, hands cupping her breasts, squeezing them firmly and rolling her nipples between his fingers and thumbs. She shuddered against him and turned her head to the side to kiss him roughly, stroking his tongue with her own and sucking on his lower lip. Breaking the kiss he caught sight of their reflection again, his hands dark against the pale skin of her breasts. She arched her back to push them more fully into his hands, rubbing against his clothed erection.

Klaus bent her forward and she braced her arms on the mirror, her beautiful ass sticking out to mimic the position they had been in in the lift. He unzipped his trousers freeing his cock and stroking it a couple of times, it was all the stimulation he could take if he planned to avoid embarrassing himself. He slid a hand forward between the cheeks of her ass to check she was ready and, on finding her soaking wet, his control snapped. He thrust into her from behind, not giving her much chance to get used to him. It was hard and fast and she was as tight and hot as he remembered, just like he'd been fantasizing about since the last time. If anything the reality of her around his thick, aching cock was better.

Caroline moaned as he gripped her hips tightly and pounded into her, the force pushing her against the mirror, the glass fogging with her panted breaths and shockingly cold against her hot, tight nipples. She tried to push back but couldn't get much leverage in her position. Klaus reached lower and lifted her leg to help her place her foot on the low window seat by her side, opening her wider and allowing him to slide a hand forward to rub her clit firmly. It was overwhelming. Wound tight, abdomen clenched with pleasure and Klaus still filling her, Caroline came with a cry. His thrusts became erratic and he came almost immediately after her, slumping forward and pressing her momentarily against the cool surface.

He pressed a hot kiss to the point where her neck met he shoulder causing her to shudder violently, still sensitive after her orgasm. She felt her legs might give way at any point.

"Shh, love, it's OK, I've got you," he reassured her, wrapping his arms around her and hauling her up with him as he stood upright again. He stooped suddenly, taking her by surprise as he swept her up and into his arms, carrying her to the, bathroom. Placing her back on her feet he reached into the shower and turned it on, before efficiently stripping his clothes off. Caroline's breathing had finally returned to normal but she felt her mouth go dry again at the sight of him, fully naked, and eyes locked on her. He closed the distance between them, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. It was a soothing kiss, calming and reassuring. Relaxing into him with a sigh, she wound her arms round his neck, and kissed him back languidly.

His hands dropped to squeeze her ass, picking her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He carried them into the wet room style shower, softly biting his way across her collarbones. When they were under the spray he let her slide slowly to her feet again. They stood pressed together, arms holding each other, lost in increasingly demanding kisses. Their hands were everywhere, finally having the time and opportunity to explore each other's bodies.

The edge had been taken off the sexual frustration they had both been feeling and they weren't quite at the pitch of desperation of that first time, but still, they had weeks of denial to make up for.

xxxxxxxxxx

A long while later Caroline was sprawled on her stomach, one arm flung out and the other curved over her head, sheet just covering the lower half of her body. Klaus had been watching her for a good half an hour, wishing he had his sketchbook with him. The swell of her hip, the long curve of her spine, they were perfection. The graceful lines of her body called to him and he had half reached out to trace her back with his finger before he realized. No he could not risk waking her yet.

Stealthily Klaus slid out of bed and picked up her bag. Finding her phone he programmed his number into it and called himself. Opening her wallet, he extracted her driver's license and made a mental note of her address and date of birth. He felt a little guilty at this intrusion into her privacy, but the last few weeks had left their mark on him. There was no way he was letting her get away again this time.

Satisfied, he climbed back into the bed, slid under the sheet and pulled Caroline back into his arms. May as well make the most of the room he thought, running his hands lightly over her body, this time with every intention of waking her.


End file.
